


Always a Gift

by sewn



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [5]
Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Scars, no cheating or breakups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewn/pseuds/sewn
Summary: ”Alright, I yield,” Mareth huffs, but her eyes are glinting.”And what do I get as a reward?” Eretria is still breathless and doesn’t budge. ”A kiss?”





	Always a Gift

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "hurt & comfort" on my Season of Kink bingo card.

Eretria hates to admit it, but falling asleep scares her these days. She’s not scared for herself, not of the things that still lurk in the back of her mind and in her blood or what they might do to her in the night. She’s scared for everyone else – of waking up changed, full of darkness again, ready to hurt everyone. She still remembers all of it. The touch of the Warlock Lord’s rotting flesh on her skin. Killing like it was nothing. Lyria’s unconscious body under her hands. The worst part is that it felt _good_, and she remembers that too, the dark joy of the creature using her body. She remembers how easy it was to give in, like it was no choice at all.

So, yeah, she is scared, but she’s working on it with Cogline, who is determined to help her. One thing that helps Eretria sleep is his presence, and Mareth’s, two people she knows can hold their own against whatever might burst out of her. The three of them have settled down in the ruins of the Safehold, built a nest that is half-laboratory, half-practice ground for a fledgling druid, surrounded by what they have salvaged of the hanging gardens.

With Mareth, she spars. It feels good, and she can tell it’s good for Mareth too. She’s seen Mareth in action, and she’d be tough to take down armed with swords and magic, but hand-to-hand, they’re equally matched.

Today, Eretria is victorious. Mareth ends up on her back, panting, cheeks red, Eretria’s entire weight pinning her down.

Eretria presses her arm across Mareth’s throat, not hard enough to actually hurt. ”You’re dead,” she says, smug.

”Alright, I yield,” Mareth huffs, but her eyes are glinting.

”And what do I get as a reward?” Eretria is still breathless and doesn’t budge. ”A kiss?”

It slips out. She likes flirting with Mareth, but even though she’s attractive, Eretria hasn’t entertained thoughts of actually making a move. She’s sure the half-elf will laugh and brush it off, but Mareth’s eyes widen before she too seems to catch herself.

”If you let me kiss you naked,” she says and swallows.

That’s how they end up in Mareth’s room, shedding their clothes in the waning sunlight streaming in through the hanging vines that veil the windows. When they’re undressed, Mareth holds her hand out for Eretria to grasp and pulls her closer. She’s a few inches taller, just a tiny bit stronger as Eretria now knows after weeks of sparring. She isn’t delicate like Amberle but up close, she has a glow to her that’s familiar. Her skin invites touch, not just the tattoos but the scars: on the back of her neck, she has the marks of a druid, still fresh and mean-looking, and many more from fights. Eretria runs her fingers over a long one on her side.

”A very angry gnome left that one,” Mareth says, dry. She takes a deep breath as Eretria slides her palm up her side, then across her back so her palm is splayed between shoulder blades.

”Must have been a close call.” She looks Mareth in the eye. ”What about this one?” She touches her other hand to a scar on her forearm, usually covered, that looks like a blade slashed all the way down her arm.

”A troll.” She smiles as Eretria runs her hand up her arm over the white ridged skin and the dark green patterns.

”That must have hurt.” She presses a kiss on Mareth’s neck.

”You should have seen the troll.”

Mareth‘s arms are a pleasant weight around Eretria’s waist. She’d thought once they were in the bedroom, it would have been over quick, a post-training fuck, but the tension is melting away from her body and Mareth doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. It’s not a bad thing.

”And what about this one?” Eretria pulls back and strokes her thumb over a faded little scar on her chest, just above her breast.

”That –” Mareth glances down. ”I tripped over my own feet as a kid. Fell on a stick.”

”So you were always a fierce warrior.” Eretria smirks and kisses the spot. 

”What about you?” Mareth whispers into her ear. ”Where are yours?”

Eretria doesn’t want to bring the mood down, but there’s no escaping it, so she turns around in Mareth’s arms.

She doesn’t say anything, but Eretria gets a light kiss on the shoulder. Mareth doesn’t touch her scars, the crisscrossing lines from her days as a slave, instead sliding her arms around her so she can hug her from behind. Her hand presses against Eretria’s abdomen, fingertips almost reaching between her legs.

“Humans are the worst,” she says, soft, the words tickling Eretria’s ear. “No offence.”

Eretria pushes back into the warmth of Mareth body. Her palm is warm too as she slips her fingers into Eretria’s cunt, shallow but enough to make a shiver go through her. She runs the tips of her fingers back and forth. The touch is a promise, not nearly enough, and Eretria tries her best to hold back from simply turning and pushing Mareth towards to bed. Her other hand snakes around Eretria’s chest anyway, holding her snugly in place. She sort of snuffles around Eretria’s neck and hair, making her wonder if elves have a thing for scents, though based on her earlier experiences there’s no evidence of that. Mareth herself smells of fresh sweat and something sweet, an incense maybe.

Mareth bites her earlobe. “You just smell good. I like the leather,” she murmurs, reminding Eretria of her slightly unnerving gift. With a kiss to her ear, she finally lets Eretria turn around.

”Alright, Rover girl.” Mareth tugs her towards the bed and Eretria follows to sit down across her, not breaking the skin contact. Mareth slips her arms around Eretria’s waist and scoots closer, cross-legged.

”I believe I was promised a kiss,” Eretria murmurs into the half inch of air between them. She can practically feel Mareth smile.

For all her abruptness in other things physical, as Mareth kisses her, she is sweet and soft and thorough, teasing Eretria’s mouth open with a gentle swipe along her upper lip and then sucking on it before pushing her tongue lightly against hers. The intrusion makes Eretria’s skin tingle, her cunt tighten in anticipation. Mareth’s fingers run down her back and up her braided hair as she tilts her head and the kiss becomes hungrier.

Eretria’s arms are trapped between their bodies, hands on Mareth’s shoulders, and she works one hand lower so she can slide her arm around her waist. She’s already wet, a sweet ache pulsing in her clit and inside her. Sliding her hands further down, Eretria maneuvers one of Mareth’s thighs between hers so she can press her slick cunt against hers.

”This work for you?” she whispers into her mouth as she stretches her leg out and rolls her hips just a little. Even the lightest sensation makes her breathe a little harder.

”Mh-hm,” Mareth says and kisses her again, bringing her arms around Eretria and pressing closer with a sinuous roll of hips. Her skin is burning hot and Eretria tightens her arms around her and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she lets herself match her movement, clit sliding over clit.

They find a slow rhythm, and Mareth keeps her mouth on Eretria’s skin, doesn’t want to let go of tasting her neck and shoulder and ear, fingertips drawing little circles on her back. As she kisses her way up Eretria’s neck and returns to her lips, Eretria can tell she’s all wound up already.

“You wanna come?” She rubs her nose in Mareth’s cheek and enjoys the little sounds that escape Mareth’s throat with every breath.

”Yes please,” Mareth says, quick, “Something in would be - mm - nice.” Eretria pulls back and the sudden lack of touch on her cunt makes her body protest, but she slips her hand between them, reaches between Mareth’s legs. She doesn’t take a stab at finding a good angle, instead letting Mareth push her hips down the way she wants, and rubbing at her clit with her other hand. When she comes, her mouth stutters against Eretria’s, and she swallows Mareth’s keening little sounds.

Mareth is still panting as she disentangles herself from Eretria enough to get on her knees and plant a wet kiss on her jaw, throat, chest. She glances up. ”Yeah?” Eretria just nods, feeling like Mareth already knows what she wants, and lets herself be pushed onto her back. Mareth kisses her way down Eretria’s belly and then spreads her out and lands the last kiss on her clit. Her palms slide down Eretria’s thighs so she can hold her hips down and her mouth is perfect, just this side of too much, as she licks at her messily.

When Eretria’s moans have died down, Mareth crawls up to lie next to her, on her side. She’s still out of breath, lips glistening in the faint light.

”That was a pretty good kiss.” Eretria brushes a strand of hair behind Mareth’s ear and strokes the pointed tip.

”You’re not a bad kisser yourself,” Mareth replies. Her hand comes to rest on Eretria’s hip. ”Your queen is lucky.”

She says it lightly, meant as a compliment, but Eretria’s heart aches. The weight of how much she misses Lyria comes back in full force.

”To be honest, sometimes it feels like I can’t ever go back if I want to keep her safe.” Eretria tries to sound aloof but her throat feels clogged.

Mareth’s squeezes her hip gently. ”Look, I didn’t –” she stops and sighs. ”You know, when I first found out I had magic, it freaked me out. Or my mom, and then she made me freak out. It changed my life, because suddenly I knew that any moment, I could hurt someone and not even know it. I was just a kid, but there was this one time when I was playing with the other children in the village, and one boy took this little wooden horse that I had, and I just – I got so _angry_, and boom, there he was, crying, with his arm broken. And I just took my horse and ran away ‘cause I didn’t know what else to do.” Eretria’s eyes are fixed on her face but she feels her hand leave her hip. ”My mom made us move so many times because she didn’t trust me to be around people. And I – I hated her for it. I hated the dad I didn’t have. But most of all I just hated myself.”

Mareth draws in a shaky breath and rolls onto her back. ”Sorry about the sob story. But the point is, I know it sucks, and the only thing you can do is try to get better at controlling it. Most of all, you’ve got to let go of the guilt. It’s not your fault. If you want to be responsible, you just work at that control. And you’ve got to learn to trust other people. They can decide for themselves if they want to be around you. Not everyone needs safekeeping. And that – really getting that just takes time. I don’t know if I’m there yet.” Mareth shrugs and turns to look at her, eyes wet. ”It is what it is.”

For a moment, they just look at each other. Finally, Eretria quirks her mouth. ”Wow. That was pretty inspirational,” she says softly.

”Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” Mareth sniffs and rolls her eyes, but she smiles too. ”Next time, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

”Oh yeah?” Eretria raises an eyebrow. ”And what do you want as a reward?”

Mareth touches her elbow, fingers light, eyes and voice teasing again. “If I tell you, can I get it in advance?”


End file.
